A terrifying night

This past Thursday, I woke up extremely tired and emotionally drained. The day before, my mom, two sisters, and my brother had spent the afternoon visiting and touring nursing homes in an effort to find a place for my dad to go.

For those of you who aren't friends with me on Facebook--which I'm guessing is a lot of you--my 86-year-old father, who is in deteriorating health and suffers from dementia that comes and goes, had an incident a week ago today. He fell in the bathroom and hit his head on the bathtub. My mom called 911 and my dad was rushed to the hospital. The doctors think he may have had a stroke, or at least a "TIA" (Transient Ischemic Attack), which is kind of a mini stroke. My dad was having trouble moving his left side and suffered vision loss as well. Pretty scary stuff.

This was about the fifth time my dad had fallen over the last several months, and the most serious incident to date. The bottom line is that my mother has decided she just can't take care of him anymore. He needs to be somewhere safe, where people can give him the care he needs.

After looking at extended care facilities on Wednesday afternoon, we all gathered at my house that evening to sit down with an attorney friend of mine who works for a firm that specializes in elder care. Coincidentally, she also went through the same thing with her father just about a year ago. So she was a great source of information and moral support. We sat and talked for about three hours about our options, Medicare, Medicaid, what we should do, what we shouldn't do, etc. It was mind-numbing and the end to a very long day, which had begun early in the morning with me researching potential nursing homes online.

I didn't sleep well Wednesday night and I knew Thursday would be a challenge. But I had no idea how much of a challenge it would be until Thursday afternoon.

It started around 2:45pm or so when I was looking through some e-mail conversations between me and my son's school that were taking place through our personal e-mail account. I saw a couple of e-mails that were sent to the school that were totally unfamiliar to me. My first thought was that maybe my wife had logged into our e-mail account and sent replies to the school without telling me. But when I called her to ask her about it, she said she hadn't even logged into our account that day. That's when I first felt like something weird was going on.

I continued on with my work day and started to have a similar experience with work e-mails. I saw work e-mails that I had sent that I did not even remember sending. The biggest red flag came when a co-worker sent me a reply to an e-mail. I opened the e-mail, read her reply, and didn't know what the hell she was talking about. I then scrolled down and saw the e-mail she was replying to--sent by me--underneath her reply. I had no recollection at all of having sent that e-mail. The information in the e-mail also meant that I would've had to have researched something in order to send the e-mail in the first place; and I had no memory whatsoever of having done that.

All of a sudden, I was terrified. I started to cry (real men do cry) and called my wife at work. I told her something was wrong with me and that I needed her to come home. Luckily, my wife's office is only a mile away from our house and she got home very quickly.

I explained what I was experiencing to her and she tried to comfort me as best she could. But I was not a very cooperative "patient." I was scared to death that something was seriously wrong with me. All I could do was sob uncontrollably. I certainly wasn't in any shape to do any more work; but I was in no shape to send any e-mails or call my boss, either. So I asked my wife to call him for me.

Luckily, I have an amazing boss who is very supportive of me. He's been supportive during everything me and my family have gone through over the last few years and this incident was no different. He told my wife to tell me to stop working and ordered me to take the next day off. I can't tell you how great that was to hear. It was a huge relief and I thought just shutting down my work computer and  resting would fix things. But, unfortunately, it didn't.

A little while later, probably around 5:00pm, I started experiencing something incredibly strange. So strange, that I don't even know how to describe it...but I'll try. I started having little fragments of thoughts pop into my head. Some of the thoughts were discernible: work-related stuff, family things, etc. But other thoughts were completely foreign to me. They were things that made no sense to me. And the thing that made everything unbearable was that none of these thought fragments ever entered by mind fully. They would start to materialize; and then as quickly as they started to materialize, they were gone. This kept happening over and over and over again all evening and into the night.

My wife finally got me to go up to bed and lie down. But the thought fragment barrage just kept coming. I cried for hours. I even screamed several times because I felt like I was going insane. I must've muttered or screamed "Please make it stop" a couple of hundred times over the course of a few hours. I also said some pretty nasty things to my wife, who was only trying to help me. But I had no idea what was going on and felt like I had lost control of my mind. I was scared to death. Thankfully, my wife realized that I didn't mean the things I was saying; I was just going through a terrifying experience. She stuck by my side and made me feel as comfortable as possible. I really don't know what I would've done if she hadn't been there.

Finally, at about 10:30pm, things in my head started to calm down. The little thought fragments stopped popping into my head and I started to feel better. Exhausted, but better.

I don't know exactly what happened to me on Thursday. I don't know if it was a panic attack or a mini nervous breakdown. But it was one of the worst experiences of my life. I suppose all the stress and pressure that I've been going through over the last several years--or even the last several months--could've finally caught up with me. The situation with my dad might've been the straw that broke the camel's back. All I know is that I honestly thought I was going insane.

I was scared to go to sleep Thursday night. Scared because I was worried I would wake up in the morning and the crazy thought fragment thing would start all over again. But it didn't. I did wake up on Friday morning feeling like I had been through the wringer, complete with a ginormous headache. But my mind was calm. I thought briefly about logging into my company's network and doing at least a little bit of work. Then I decided to heed my boss's advice and just rest.

I made it through all of Friday without incident, and as I type this late Saturday morning everything remains normal. I am incredibly grateful for that.

As for my dad, he was transferred from the hospital to an extended care facility yesterday. It's one of the places we had looked at on Wednesday. Luckily, they had a bed available. As much as I wanted to help out in the whole transfer process, I did not participate. I was just too drained. I thank my sisters for taking on that responsibility. My mom called me last night and said that everything went well and that my dad was settled into his room.

I'm hoping I never again experience what I experienced on Thursday. It was one of the scariest things I've ever been through. I guess the moral of the story is this: No matter how much stress you have in your life, and no matter how many things you have to do, it's important to step back every once in a while and say to yourself, "I need to stop and think about ME for a while." Helping others and busting your ass at work is great...until it starts taking its toll on you. YOU are the most important person in your life. Don't ever forget that. You deserve to feel good, too. I'm not saying to ignore or abandon your loved ones in need--or your job--but just listen to your body and mind when they start to tell you enough is enough.

Thanks again to my amazing wife. She really saved me Thursday night. She is not only my wife. She is my guardian angel in living, human form. And I would be lost without her. LOST.

P.S. I just wanted to mention something my dad said in the hospital on Monday while I was there visiting him. The speech pathologist came to his room to ask him a series of questions to determine how much he could remember. After answering several questions, my dad said to the speech pathologist, "I love my children and my grandchildren." That was totally unsolicited and was incredible to hear.

"Cloud fucking nine."

I had to drive my son to work yesterday afternoon. I picked him up at his house and we were driving along when he said to me, out of the blue:

"I'm on cloud fucking nine."

I said, "Oh, yeah? How come."

His reply? "Because everything is going so well right now."

Hallelujah to my higher power. To hear those words come out of my son's mouth was like winning the lottery. Twice. In one day.

He's inching towards seven months of sobriety. He's got a job that he likes. He has a new girlfriend he's crazy about.

He's also maturing more every day. I can see it. 

Last night I posted this on his Facebook wall:

"Just want you to know how incredibly proud I am of you. Every day I see more positive changes in your attitude and personality. What I always knew was inside of you is coming out. And it's beautiful."

Damn straight.

Six months

My son is six months clean and sober today.

Six months. Wow. That has a nice ring to it.

I am so grateful and happy. But most of all? I'm proud as hell.

One day at a time...

"Recovery is not about bad people getting good, it's about good people getting well." --via Wisconsin Intervention Services on Facebook

Happy 2013!

Finally, a HAPPY New Year's Day.

It's been several years in the making, but I guess the hard work on everyone's part has paid off. At least for now. I woke up this morning and realized that the first day of 2013 is the happiest New Year's Day I've experienced in years.

For the hell of it, I went back to my post from last January 1st to see what I had written. After describing a less-than-stellar Christmas holiday, I ended my blog post with this:

"So today is New Year's Day. Goodbye, 2011...Hello, 2012. It's been almost seven years since my son started battling addiction, and every New Year's I hope the coming year will be better than the previous one. Today is no different. My wife and I will try to stay strong and continue to work on our own recovery. Letting go is hard, but I think we're slowly making some progress.

"Progress, not perfection. One day at a time."

As of today, my son is just a couple of days away from being six months clean and sober. He's got a job. He's settled into a great sober living house with a great owner and a great group of guys. And my wife and I are miles ahead of where we were last year in our recovery.

I'd call that progress.

To everyone who reads this blog, I wish you the best for 2013. I hope whatever problems you may have either go away or at least become easier to bear. If you're the parent of an addict, I hope that your loved one makes progress this year and that you and your spouse remember that your recovery is just as important--if not more so--than your child's. Work on letting go a bit more. As they say in Al-Anon, you didn't cause your child's addiction; you can't control it; and you can't cure it.

It's a tough thing to come to grips with, but your child will ultimately make his or her own choices--regardless of what you want those choices to be. So you really need to take care of yourself. You simply can't let your child's addiction take control of your life. It will destroy you. And you deserve better.

Peace to all of you. And thanks again for all your support. Words can't describe how much it means to me.

"There are far, far better things ahead than any we leave behind." --C.S. Lewis

Looking back on the not-so-distant past

Yesterday I posted this status update on my Facebook page:

"My blog went over 49,000 views today. And @bettyfordcenter is now following me on Twitter. Crazy."

Several friends commented on my post. Some offered their congratulations. A couple even suggested that I should write a book.

Ha! Although I was very flattered, I doubt I will ever write a book about my experiences as the father of an addict. But I will admit that the thought has crossed my mind on more than one occasion.

You see, in addition to this blog I have a personal journal that preceded my electronic postings. That journal is more than 200 pages long, and it goes back to what I refer to as "the darkest days." The days when my family's life was a real living hell. When there was no hope in sight and I wondered if we would ever be able to survive what we were going through. It was awful period for everyone involved.

Today I found that journal on my computer and read it. Needless to say, it was an incredibly tough read. There were things in it that I didn't even remember. (Or maybe I just wanted to forget them.) Things so horrible I have no idea how my wife and I ever navigated our way through them. But we did. Together we figured it out as we went along and found a way to do it. It was damn hard and physically and emotionally draining. But we did it.

Reading that journal made me realize how far I have come. Just a few years ago, I could barely function. For example, in an entry from March 2, 2008, I wrote about having gone into a conference room at work so I could cry:

"The pain I feel right now is indescribable. Even crying doesn't help."

I also quoted a passage from David Sheff's Beautiful Boy: A Father's Journey Through His Son's Addiction--the book I was reading at the time--because I could totally relate to it:

"When I am alone, however, I weep in a way that I have not wept since I was a young boy...Tears come at unexpected moments for no obvious reason, and they pour forth with ferocity. They scare the hell out of me. It scares the hell out of me to be so lost and helpless and out of control and afraid."

Today, almost four years later, I still feel afraid from time to time. But I no longer feel lost, helpless, or out of control. I've even kind-of-sort-of figured some things out.

One thing's for sure: I've worked extremely hard on my recovery and have made progress. Looking back on the not-so-distant past today just confirmed that for me.

By the way, don't hold your breath waiting for that book. :)

Life plans can change

I don't usually post things like this on my blog. In fact, I don't know if I ever have. But when I saw this last night it struck me as being particularly profound. It reminded me of that moment I realized my son was an addict, and that the life plan I had imagined for him wasn't going to happen. At least, not right away.

Thanks to Karen Salmansohn for posting this on her Facebook page. If you get a chance, check out her website: Karen Salmansohn: Self-Help For People Who Wouldn't Be Caught Dead Doing Self-Help. There's some great stuff there.

Best. Christmas. Ever.

I know it was two days ago, but I'm still soaking in all the wonderfulness that was Christmas 2012. I really cherished the holiday this year. Having my son participate with almost six months of sobriety under his belt was an unbelievably great feeling.

He spent Christmas Eve at his sober living house and came over mid-morning so we could open presents together. Earlier that morning, though--very early, in fact--I was the first one awake in our house. I came downstairs, turned the Christmas tree lights on, built a fire in the fireplace, put on some Christmas music, and sat on the couch...and cried. But unlike the last several years, I was crying tears of joy. I was just so damn happy. It was like I was living a dream.

My son stayed at our home the whole day, and we had a fabulous family dinner with my mom, brother, and youngest sister. Unfortunately, my dad couldn't make it over because he wasn't feeling well and continues to have major issues with his hearing. But we put together a nice doggy bag of food for him and sent it home with my mom.

Both of my sons are doing so well right now. As a parent, there's really nothing more I could ask for. I am so incredibly grateful.

This really was the best Christmas ever.